


Black and Red

by tender_sushijima



Series: Boys Be Ambitious [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adults, Alternate Universe - Office, Alternate Universe - Scientists, Angst and Humor, F/M, Past Relationship(s), Science Experiments, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 07:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11031417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tender_sushijima/pseuds/tender_sushijima
Summary: Kuroo has an idea that will transform lives with just half a pint of serum that'll destroy all unhealthy synapses. But he needs someone to provide him those unhealthy synapses, and the only one suitable for the job is Iwata Naomi, the high school girl who claims she's got nothing to lose.





	Black and Red

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream that's slightly similar to this, and I woke up thinking 'I gotta have this brilliance posted'. So yeah.
> 
> Also this won't exactly be consecutively followed up because although it's got a solid plot device, it's among my lesser focused on projects. I mean, I got two big ones going on and probably five major minor ones, and now this. The struggles of being a writer who can't stop dreaming during the day.

* * *

 

There’s a knock on his door.

Kuroo Tetsurou looked up from the documents scattered on his table, a smile forming on his face when he registered who’d appeared in his laboratory. “You actually found me first, sweetheart,” he said to her amusedly.

“I’m not ‘sweetheart’; I’m Iwata Naomi.”

“I know that, _sweetheart_. Come, have a seat.”

Iwata made a distasteful frown at that but doesn’t comment. She unfolded her arms from her chest and stepped into the room, but doesn’t sit on the chair facing him. Kuroo halted with his sorting business to look up at her, the black rims of his glasses just below his eyesight. “Well, don’t just stand there. Sit down.”

Iwata, for all her ferocity, is actually an obedient girl. She needs to be told twice to carry out her responsibilities, somehow akin to a working bull on a field of grains, but she listens, eventually. Before she could even help it, her hand found its way onto the leather cushion of the chair and pulled it back so she could sit. Both her hands then found their ways to each other, clasping tight and shakily on her lap as she kept her eyes on them.

Kuroo sensed the tension in her shoulders and decided the paperwork on his table can wait. He put them down and took off his glasses, swiftly snapping them close and placing them in the pocket of his lab coat. “Is there anything I can help you with?” he then asked her, his own hands folded atop the papers.

Silent. Iwata has lost the courage she’d mustered in her when she walked through the darkening streets of her neighborhood, got on the subway, and walked the remaining kilometer towards the heart of the business center. Skyscrapers rose to the sky and the streetlights replaced the stars littered over the gray expanse of heavy clouds, pregnant with rain. The air was humid and threatened of a heavy downpour, but Iwata had luckily ducked into the large revolving doors of the one silver building before she was drenched in acid rain.

BioNatur Corps. That’s what the acrylic plaque on his table said, below the larger print of his name. Chief of Brain Physiology, Kuroo Tetsurou.

“You said there’s a medicine that could wipe out the painful memories in a person,” Iwata declared. “Is it ready for publicity yet?”

Kuroo blinked. He leaned back from the table and rested his head on the chair, thoughtful but taken aback by how this girl before him doesn’t beat around the bush. She’s still wearing her school uniform, and judging by the time on his watch, Iwata must’ve taken a detour from her usual route back home and made BioNatur Corps her next destination. Exhaling, he stared up at the beam of light above him. “As of now, it’s still being tested for safety and effectiveness. But we have finalized the formula and precautions to be taken upon dosage. Though, we have yet to try it on a subject we could deem reliable.”

“I can be your subject.”

Kuroo froze. He doesn’t immediately look at her, or react in shock befitting of what she’s actually saying. What he does, however, is furrow his brows in question and roll his tongue around his mouth. It’s a habit of his that’s started back in grade three, when he was confronted with his very first enemy. But enemy would be too much of an exaggeration – someone who disagrees with him completely, then.

Daishou Suguru. A kid in his class who’d revolted to the teacher just so she wouldn’t muse on Kuroo’s intelligence. Daishou was just as intelligent, but the one thing he’d lacked that could’ve earned him a spot in Kuroo’s tenth birthday party guest list, was the tenacity in him to continuously challenge his beliefs. Kuroo’s blood boils just at the mere thought of Daishou, but he shook it off to attend to Iwata.

He smiled and pushed his swivel chair closer to the table, where he leaned his elbows on and rested his chin atop his intertwined fingers. “It’s not some simple school science experiment, sweetheart,” he started as gently as he could. “This could endanger your life and mine. Have you thought of that?”

“Then what’s the point of making this medicine if you can’t take me up as a test subject?”

Kuroo’s going to have to convince this high school kid to back off without getting into trouble with the Chairman for having enticed her to come right into their headquarters, demanding she be their test subject for the most crucial lab medicine. Kuroo knew he’s partly to be blamed for this, but he’d have thought she would’ve ignored him when they first met and he’d given her his name card. How foolish. “Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” When she doesn’t answer, he continued, “The reason why we scientists use rats and other animals for our tests is because there’s an abundance of them and we can minimize ethical damage should things fail. We don’t authorize using human test subjects.” _At least not yet._

“How are you going to confirm the success of this medicine if you don’t use a human test subject? Rats don’t have painful memories, and even if they do, you can’t access to them.”

One eye of Kuroo’s twitched. This is straying too close to memories of Daishou and he’s becoming increasingly impatient. Iwata had caught his eyes when he saw her in the crowd of eager families looking to have their health checked for free, holding onto the shirt of her mother when they’d approached him about the elder’s digestive problems. It had only been a season since then, but the hard look in her eyes has ceased to abate. If anything, they only looked fiercer than before.

He’s about to reason with her again but she beat him to it, “You gave me that name card for a reason, right? I didn’t see you giving it to anyone else after I left with my mom.” She then fished around in her fading green army bag, slapping the name card on the table for emphasis. It’s folded and fraying at the edges, but the ink stayed intact amongst all the signs of deterioration, black and bold.

“It’s because I wanted you to call me about your mother if her digestive tract started acting up; nothing else,” Kuroo explained to her, but he knew he was only telling half the truth. The other half was that yes, he did give the name card only to her because he’s interested in her; Iwata had showed odd symptoms in her behavior that’s hitting too many of his requirements of a test subject. Just a hunch of his, which many of his colleagues have called him a dreamer and unrealistic for.

It’s also something Daishou used to call him as an insult, but Kuroo had taken it the other way. A compliment. For a profession that relies solely on constant repeats of one procedure and learning from past mistakes of other people, Kuroo needs a splash of imagination in his life. And this splash of imagination came in the form of a hypothesis that perhaps, a human could erase memories that inflict emotional distress towards themselves, leaving only the happy memories and new slots for new memories. All that’s missing is a human who’s filled to the brim with bad memories, and Iwata Naomi was the perfect piece that’ll complete this theory of his.

With those spinning round and round in his head, Kuroo has lost the will to turn down Iwata’s offer in becoming his human test subject. If he could convince the Chairman to approve of her, then everything will fall into place.

“Have you talked to your mother about this?” he changed the topic, and is amazed by the transitions of her expression. “I need an official statement of approval from your parents before I talk to the Chairman.”

“Ah, I can talk to her about it tomorrow. But I can really be the test subject, right?”

Kuroo doesn’t want to get her hopes high – _his_ hopes high as well – but he has absolutely zero control in this. Not when he’s prioritizing his hypothesis over rationality. “I do hope you will be, but… there’s going to be a tedious process following this. And before we even get to the medicine part, we’re going to have to run a few health tests on you and make sure you’re in tiptop form to withstand the withdrawal symptoms. Are you sure you can handle that?”

“I’ve prepared myself for all that.”

Kuroo lifted a brow at that. Suddenly, he’s not thinking of the media’s backlash he’ll get after this. He’s not thinking of the possibilities of the medicine failing on her and him. He’s not thinking of anything but injecting that serum into her bloodstream, watching her fall into a tranquil sleep and awaiting the results of his hard work. Kuroo curbed all of those desires and focused on taking the precautionary steps first.

“Good, now give me a moment,” he told her. He took out his glasses and placed it on the table, then reached for the phone on the table to press a series of numbers, all whilst keeping his eyes on Iwata. She’s looking at him now, but immediately averted her gaze when she saw him staring. It’s an adorable reaction and he smiled just as someone picks up.

“Ah, Kuroo-san! It’s almost closing time,” the chirpy voice greeted him from the other line. “We’re all waiting for you at the lobby, but Moniwa-san said a schoolgirl was looking for you? Should we wait a little longer?”

“No need for that, Lev. It seems like I’ve got unfinished business to do in the office. You all go ahead and have dinner without me.”

“Ehh? But you said you’ll be treating us this time. And Oikawa-san refuses to go to that restaurant because the chef kept giving him special desserts. He won’t come at all if you don’t make him.”

Kuroo grinned, running a hand through the dark mess of his hair. He’s going to need to start gelling them in place to gain the favor of the Chairman. “Sorry Lev, but I really can’t right now. Just tell them to put it on my tabs. I’ll make it up to you guys next time.”

“ _Kuroo-san_!”

“Thanks, Lyovochka!” Kuroo let out a breath of relief and returned the phone to its place. He grabbed a palm-sized remote and pressed a button while pointing it towards the door. There’s a click and a series of clunking from the door, and Kuroo tossed the remote back onto the table with nonchalance. “I’d like to start from the basics with you, Iwata,” he stood. “You can just leave your bag there. Let’s move to the examination room.”

Iwata stood and followed Kuroo to the said room, which is just the small space hidden by the pale blue curtains at the side. He pushed them aside and gestured for her to sit on the bed, and while Iwata is reluctant to, she does as she’s told. Both hands gripping the edges of the bed, she hunched her back and hid her face behind her hair. The long strands glowed blond under the lights of the room, the result of her recent visit to the salon. She’d have thought this color would’ve completely turned her hair blond, but it seemed like the pigments of her hair were stubborn and refused to let the dye to be imprinted. So now it looks dark brown and only looked blond under direct lighting. Whatever. It made her look different; it made her look like an adult.

“How old are you, Iwata?”

She’s startled out of her thoughts, glancing up. Kuroo has his back on her, fussing with whatever’s on the metal tray to the side of the bed. Iwata looked down at her shoes and briefly thought of buying a new pair of converse soon. Red or black? “Seventeen this year. My birthday’s on October.”

Kuroo paused. “So you’re still sixteen? Freshman in high school?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look like it. I thought you were in junior high, or something.”

Iwata scowled. “I look that young to you?”

“Apologies. It’s a first impression thing that I have no control over. But to my defense, your height has something to contribute to that impression.”

Iwata scowled harder. “I know, I’m short. My face is like an elementary kid’s too. I get that a lot.”

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh, turning around with a small monitor. Attached to the monitor is a gray wire that connects to a black band, which Kuroo pried apart. The Velcro crackled in the silence and Iwata realized just how late she’s staying out of the house, in the hazardous zone of the city all by herself.

“Are you nervous?”

Iwata could really fare better without Kuroo’s sudden questions scaring her. “I think so,” she answered, fighting back the increasing beats of her heart. “I don’t know what you’re doing and it’s so quiet in here. You bailed out on your friends just now, didn’t you?”

Kuroo smiled. He lifted her right arm and wrapped the black band around her forearm, above her elbow, making sure it fits just right without restricting the blood vessels. “I pay for their dinner almost every other time. They should be able to live without me there tonight.”

Iwata contemplated if she should say this, but she figured he wouldn’t mind anyway, “You shouldn’t lie, you know. They’ll eventually know what you’re doing when you didn’t go with them.”

“That’ll come after this,” Kuroo lifted the monitor and pressed a button on the side, turning it on with ease. Numbers showed up on the screen and the machine started to beep in tandem to the pumping of her heart. “Alright. I’ll be checking your pupils now.” He took out a small torchlight from the pocket of his lab coat, easily turning it on. Kuroo placed a hand on the side of her face and gently opened her eye wider, shining the light into it, then does the same to the other. He turned it off and slipped it back into the pocket, turning to the monitor. 74 beats per minute.

“So? What’s that telling you?” she asked.

“That you’re relaxed and unaware of what’s going to happen to you.”

Iwata felt a smile creeping on her lips. “Vague responses. As expected from a doctor graduate.”

“I’m different from those guys who write chicken scratch.”

Iwata couldn’t fight the smile from forming and she turned away when her cheeks lifted with mirth. “Whatever you say.” The smile fell when he’s not replying and she turned to see him standing before her, staring at her wordlessly. He’s got that same look on his face as the people whom she’d used to work with would give her, upon realizing that she’s the prime suspect of the missing money in the cashier. Iwata glowered at the images and gripped the bed tighter. “What next? Urine test?” she unknowingly growled.

Kuroo shook his head. “Iwata, look at me,” he insisted, repeating the sentence in a commanding voice when she doesn’t do as he said. “I want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, because I can’t cover up the expenses that follow if you quit halfway. So I want to be sure that you’re willingly agreeing to this.”

Iwata bit her lips. Of course she’s willing; she didn’t come all the way to the city center for shits and giggles with the guy who’d given her his contact info. She knew just what she’s getting into long ago, going back and forth with her decisions and thoughts as she crumpled the business card into smithereens in her hands. Iwata had prepared herself, mentally and physically, for this moment. There’s absolutely no way she’s backing out of this.

“I am willingly agreeing to this, just in case you’re still not convinced,” she told him, looking right into his eyes. They’re piercing, dark and enigmatic, more so with one of them covered by the unevenly parted fringe. How’d his hair come to look like that anyway? “I can leave you my phone number. Call me anytime you need me, just not from eight to three. I still have school.”

Kuroo smirked at that, thinking to himself the limitless amusement he’s getting from Iwata. “There’s no need for that.” And then, the ambience turned back to serious and he bent down to shorten the distance between them, hands on either sides of her so his arms are caging her. Kuroo gazed at her, frowning a little, then said, “Then I hold no responsibility for what happens to you.”

Iwata searched for the right meaning to that statement but before she could even open her mouth to ask what it actually meant, Kuroo has swooped down and pressed his lips on hers.

The beeping has increased and Iwata is beginning to wriggle about under him. Kuroo kept her still with a hand on the back of her neck, unrelenting with his kiss. Her hands clung onto his arms and grabbed helplessly, yanking and smacking at his coat. Kuroo ignored them and kissed harder.

He only pulled away when she’s close to punching him. Both of them are gasping for breath, but she’s practically hyperventilating. Kuroo turned to the heartbeat monitor. 130 beats per minute. The diastole and systole rates are rapidly increasing in number, beeping and beeping endlessly while she breathed. He turned back to her and saw the wild look in her eyes, lost and traumatized. Her pupils are shaking and her grip on him is weak. Kuroo has slight qualms about being the source of her panicking, but this was necessary.

“Wh-What was that?” she squeaked, unable to look at him directly. Her cheeks are blooming pink, and so are her lips, moist and plump from his rough maneuvering. “Was that p-part of the test?”

Kuroo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting strawberry. “If I explain it now, the effectiveness will wear out,” he sighed. “It’s not supposed to be explained, anyway. It has to be shown.”

“What _kind_ of test is _that_?”

“Exposure therapy. Now be quiet and let me do my work.”

Iwata wished she was a little bigger in size, so she could do something about the immovable man rendering her immobile. It’s a little terrifying for her to be on the inferior side, thrashing about uselessly until she’s tired and vulnerable for Kuroo to roam his hands around like a wandering spider. Iwata’s exhausted, resorting to just putting her hands on his shoulders while he has his way with her, though when he put his hand on her bare thigh and slowly crept higher, she’s alarmed and squeezed a hand around his wrist.

Kuroo retracted from his violent abuse on her lips and moved to leave a light peck on her cheek before shifting to her ear, where he whispered reassuringly, “Relax. I won’t do anything too extreme. At least not now.”

Iwata thought she felt her heart plummet down to where her intestines are. The monitor missed one beep and Kuroo grinned at that, unbeknownst to her. What he’s doing is definitely stepping out of the line for an even more outrageous procedure, but he’s in charge of the testing. Kuroo Tetsurou is the leader, who’ll initiate the experiment on her. No one should question his course of actions if that’ll increase the success rate of the test.

He felt her hand on his wrist loosen and took it as an initiative to go further. While one hand caressed her skin, the other goes to brush her hair away from the side of her face. Kuroo pushed the strands behind her ear and blew at it, causing her to inhale sharply. The beeping of the heartbeat monitor is the only thing that’s making a noise in the room, aside from Iwata’s increasingly loudening breaths. It’s a strange sensation to be doing this to a student, but well… Kuroo will take any chance he gets.

“So? What are your thoughts?” he asked, to which she shuddered at.

“You’re a jerk and I’m going to kick you after this.”

“Nice. You’re a tough one, kid.” Kuroo pulled away to properly look at her. Iwata is still flushed, her skin red from what he could guess is embarrassment and anger, but she’s glaring at him. That, he’ll need to jot down in a new file dedicated for her. “You’re quite acceptant with what’s going on. Taking things a little too calmly, if I may add. You really prepared yourself for this, huh?”

Iwata flicked him on his jaw. “Don’t make things more awkward than it already is. You’re harassing an underage girl, which consent won’t recover your pride with.”

“Police can’t catch me if they don’t have evidence. This room is my domain; I’m the only one who has access to the cameras. Even the security needs my permission to look through the footage.”

Iwata would be lying if she’s just intimidated by this man, the very man who’d smashed his lips against hers and claimed that it’s a ‘test’. He’s got one hand on her thigh and another grasping her shoulder, his face so close to hers that she could smell his cologne. It smells like musk and another unidentifiable aroma that invigorates the men’s section in the perfume aisle. He smells of dried sweat as well, but in the cool air of the room, it’s almost nothing next to the cologne.

Iwata managed a few seconds of meeting Kuroo’s eyes before she has to turn away in shame. He’s got none of that at the moment, because he’s grinning and running his thumb in circles on her skin. It sends a wave of electricity in her every time he completes one circle, and Iwata could tell he’s enjoying the response she’s giving.

“You’re quite shameless with doing this,” Iwata mumbled in the same tone Kuroo had used. “And is it done? I feel a little cold.”

Chuckling, Kuroo nodded. He pulled away from her completely, her skin burning from where his hands last touched, picking up the monitor. The beeping has slowed considerately, something Iwata doesn’t understand the importance of, but remained silent as he unwrapped the band from her arm. “I hope you did tell your mother about where you went, because the traffic is inevitably busier around this time.”

“I told her I’m staying over at a friend’s house if I don’t come home by nine.”

Kuroo glanced over his shoulder to look at the clock. 19:31. “That’s enough time for you to get back—”

“Treat me to dinner.”

His mouth hung ajar in midsentence. “What?”

Iwata’s no longer red, just smug this time. She cocked her head to the side, brows lifted in a mischievous way. “You were going to eat too, weren’t you? I haven’t eaten either, so we should eat together.”

“Yeah, well— You should eat by yourself.”

“I didn’t bring money with me.”

“Then how did you come here?”

“Subway.”

Kuroo’s mouth clamped shut, stumped for any more ways to counter her. He’ll admit – not only is Iwata quirky, she’s also adept in getting people to eat from her hands. Literally. “I might just bring you to a crowded ramen shop and treat you a few yens.”

Iwata shrugged. “Sure. Anything’s good. Think of it as compensation for making my first kiss so painful.”

The hand which is returning the heartbeat monitor to the tray stopped. _First kiss?_ “That was your first?” he turned to her.

Iwata hummed, unfazed. “Not like I cared anyway. Kisses are all the same, eventually. If I do it enough times, the first one is nothing to me.”

Kuroo is actually feeling the aftermath of his actions now. His tongue rolled in his mouth again, but out of self-guilt. He’d come up with this spontaneously when he sat in front of Iwata and listened to her convictions of becoming his test subject – ‘this’ being kissing her roughly and touching her to leave a near-rape experience for her. It worked, albeit not hundred percent effective, but now that he’s actually learnt of it being her first kiss, Kuroo is slightly less confident with his decision. True – a first kiss that rough with a man who’s older than you by a good few years is traumatizing and worthy of a specimen to be observed once he’s injected the serum into her, but what won’t change is that Kuroo will remember that he’d been the one to have done it to her. Iwata won’t remember him kissing her, or even remember Kuroo entirely if she categorized him in the bad memories section of her mind, but he would.

“Have you decided where we’ll be eating?”

Her voice broke him out of his muddled mind and he nodded, not because he’s actually decided where they’ll be eating, but to tell himself that Iwata won’t even remember all that’s happened today in hopefully a month’s time. For now, Kuroo will make sure he’s damaged her enough to be able to see a change in her once the serum has circulated her nervous system.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said to her, shrugging out of his lab coat. He’s going to have a busier schedule now that he’s dealing with a human test subject.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If it's similar to a rather controversial Hollywood Valentine's franchise currently going on, it is. That's the first thing I thought of upon consciousness from the dream I had.


End file.
